


Mask my face, not my heart

by stardustchenle



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Venezia | Venice, jackson and his parties are the best wingman, noble jeno, tailor chenle, venetian carnival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-28 02:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustchenle/pseuds/stardustchenle
Summary: Don Jeno began to draw circles on the back of Chenle's hand with his thumb, then flipped it over and started lightly tracing the outline of his fingers, one by one. He seemed to be paying the upmost attention to them, for some reason that Chenle couldn't imagine.Chenle's heart was pumping so loudly in his ears that he almost didn't hear when the other spoke again."Pa- pardon, what did you say?""I said," Don Jeno started, still looking down at their hands and continuing his feather-light touches, "that I like the decorations on the mask too. White and simple would not have worked as well with the costume, but you've always had an exceptional eye for detail."





	Mask my face, not my heart

Chenle took one of the pins resting between his lips and used it to test how some more lace would look attached to the sleeves of the rich green dress on the mannequin in front of him. Donna Costanza always wanted to outdo herself and every other guest in any and all public occasions and Chenle wasn’t eager to become the first tailor of the shop to disappoint her, especially with the amount of money she was regularly willing to spend on the dresses and accessories she commissioned. She had asked for the best costume of the goddess Flora that Venice had ever seen and, with the tenor the nobles and merchants of the Serenissima lived at, such a request meant that Chenle needed to pick the finest pearls, laces and trims he could get his hands on, and use them profusely. 

“Chenle, the gondola to the Wang’s residence is here.”

The voice of Matilde called out to him from his left and he turned towards her, who had stopped nearby with a large and shallow basket of ostrich feathers in her arms. He nodded to Matilde as a thanks and she smiled back, then walked to the mannequin in front of Chenle and started to attach some of the white feathers to the neckline of the jacket she was working on for the eldest son of the banker. Like every year when Carnival rolled around, the whole atelier turned its full attention to the dozens of commissions they got for costumes, often more than one per wealthy customer to last them for the weeks of parties and celebrations the richest people in the city organised. 

Don Jackson was one of them, everyone knew that the annual masquerade ball in his villa was the place to be. Don Jackson had taken a liking to Chenle’s skills since the tailor had first joined the atelier three years prior, and he always requested that Chenle sewed clothes for him and for the members of his closest family, like-

Chenle straightened up hastily as his heart fell down to his stomach and he felt heat creep up the back of his neck. He stored away the lace he had left in his hands as quickly as he could while still being careful and then took the bag where he had stored, neatly folded, the costumes for Don Jackson and his nephew. 

He bid goodbye to Matilde, threw on his wool cape and then buzzed out of the atelier and on the small boat that had been sent for him, where the butler of Don Jackson was waiting for him with the gondolier.

Not much later, the gondola was sliding near the dock in front of the Wang villa and stopping, a servant already there to welcome Chenle and help him out of the boat to avoid the bag, or him, from falling in the water of the canal. Chenle thanked him with a nod and started to head up the stairs for the path he knew well, but halted in his tracks when he realised he probably should’ve let the servant or the butler lead the way, for good manners. 

He was about to apologise, when a voice from the top of the stairs called his name, grabbing the attention of everyone. Don Jackson quickly walked down to where Chenle stood, ignoring his bow and greeting him warmly, as always. He patted the tailor on the back cheerfully, then started to lead him towards the sitting room they always used for fittings. 

Chenle found himself smiling as Don Jackson talked on as they walked, making Chenle feel more at ease like a perfect host would, and Don Jackson definitely was one. That quality of his' was appreciated by many clients of the atelier as well, who talked plenty of praise about every party at the Wang villa for at least a week of fittings afterwards. Despite Chenle’s initial nerves, Don Jackson and that house were familiar to him and he was attached to both, in a way, so he found himself getting calmer with every step they took and with every word spilling from the noble’s mouth. 

As soon as the butler opened the door of the sitting room and they entered, however, Chenle felt the nervousness coming back as strong as before. He was glad that the servant had been the one carrying his bag, because in his place he would’ve probably dropped it unceremoniously on the polished parquet floor.

Don Jackson’s hands were then around Chenle’s shoulders and on his bicep, pushing him forward towards the small pedestal surrounded by three full-length mirrors in the center of the room before their owner comfortably plopped down on one of the green velvet sofas. The bag with the clothes was silently placed near Chenle’s feet by the servant.

“Splendid! Now that we are all here why don’t you start with my dear nephew, since he is already standing there?” Don Jackson was smiling wide, arms resting on the back of the sofa on both his sides and a hint of what looked like amusement in his eyes.

Chenle nodded and braced himself as he finally turned towards the pedestal, which had a distinct figure standing next to it, much to Chenle's dismay. Or his joy, he couldn’t exactly discern between the two.

Chenle received a court nod as a greeting and bowed in response, staring at the shoes in front of him for longer than normal, as if they were more interesting than what they actually were. He could always pass it off as professional deformation, he figured. 

“Don Jeno, it’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

“Please, I told you, there is no need for this much formalities, you can not bow. And… call me just Jeno, if you want.” The last sentence was muttered lowly, and Chenle had to refrain from whipping his head up. He had heard it, but was almost sure that Don Jackson didn’t, and that must’ve probably been Don Jeno’s intent. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat from the sofa made Chenle realise that he had been stalling.

He straightened up quickly. “Yes, we can- we can start.” 

He opened his bag, carefully took out Don Jeno’s costume and handed it to the same servant from before, who walked with Don Jeno behind a screen to help him get dressed.

Shortly after Don Jeno walked back out in the centre of the room and on the pedestal, royal and lighter blue brocade making up the under-the-knee pants, waistcoat and cape of his costume. The idea behind it had been to dress up as a foreign prince from a faraway kingdom, and Chenle had used expensive fabrics that had taken weeks to arrive by sea from the east. The costume also included royal blue shoes with two-finger heels, like it was in style among the rich men in both Venice and the royal court of France, white socks and a hat.

When it came to Carnival parties, wealthy people took two routes: they either chose a costume that covered their face as little as possible, or not at all, to be easily recognisable and boast their money and clothes, or they chose a proper mask to hide their identity and be able to be whoever they wanted, which often coincided with indulging in their vices or secret flings for the weeks of feasting. 

The members of the Wang household belonged to the first category, but rather than to show off, it was because they needed to welcome people in the villa anyway, so it was expected of them to be recognisable. That was the reason why Don Jeno’s costume only had a hat and no mask, while Don Jackson's merely included a small trim of lace around his eyes that was finely woven and very beautiful, but not covering much.

After taking a general look Chenle got closer to the pedestal,_ and to Don Jeno, _with the usual trusty sewing pins between his lips and a tape measure around his neck. He fixed trims, secured buttons, checked that the hems of the shirt sleeves were even, all while trying with the utmost care not to poke Don Jeno with a needle. Granted, Chenle was always careful to not hurt any customer, but he tried to ignore the voice in his head telling him that he was being more attentive than usual. He knew it was true, and didn’t need to think about it at the moment.

As he worked on the embroidery of the socks, Chenle unintentionally caressed Don Jeno's calf and almost got scared when he felt the noble shiver under his fingers. He tried his best to get back to work as if nothing had happened, but the heart beating loudly in his chest confirmed that there was little hope still left for him to not consider himself completely gone.

After what felt like an eternity of holding his breath, Chenle watched as Don Jeno got out from behind the screen for the second time that day, but wearing his clothes from the beginning of the afternoon instead of the costume Chenle had sewn for him. 

Don Jackson was about to take his place to get changed, but stopped and turned at the last moment towards his nephew. 

“Jeno, don’t you have a lesson now? You should go, don't want you to be late.”

Chenle tried a glance and a smile towards Don Jeno, who almost looked… disappointed? He imagined that studying all the difficult subjects wealthy merchants and nobles got taught must have been difficult, though, so he understood why Jeno didn't look eager to leave. He stopped himself from bowing again as he bid farewell, and Don Jeno seemed to smile as well at that. He then wished Chenle good luck with his uncle’s costume, before exiting the room.

Chenle realised he was still looking at the door when Don Jackson’s voice as he walked out from behind the screen brought him back from his thoughts: “Did I manage to dress up as a dog successfully then, or do I just look ridiculous?”

* * *

It was while Chenle was putting away the clothes at the end of the fitting that he realised someone else should’ve been there.

“Excuse me Don, where is your cousin?”

That Carnival, differently than usual, Don Jackson had commissioned a third costume for a distant cousin living outside of Venice, whom Chenle had never seen, who was allegedly going to come visit the villa for the celebrations. However, Chenle had only now noticed that there was no one else in the room. Was the cousin busy? Was Chenle going to have to come back for another fitting? The party was only the day after, there wasn’t much time left.

Don Jackson turned towards him with an expression that seemed like it was supposed to be of regret, but didn’t look that disappointed. 

“Ah, you see... it’s _ really _ a shame, but sadly he won’t be able to come visit.”

Maybe Don Jackson didn’t like his cousin and was relieved that he wasn’t going to be present in the end, that would have explained his clearly-fake disappointment. Chenle had spent hours of work on that costume, but since Don Jackson usually liked Chenle's taste right away and never made him do too many changes, they were less than the amount they could've been. For that reason, Chenle found himself not being truly mad, or at least less angry than he expected. It was nearly impossible to be more than momentarily pissed at Don Jackson anyway, and that counted for Chenle as well.

“Why don’t you wear it, instead? It should be more or less in your measurements, shouldn’t it?" the noble added.

Chenle was extremely confused, and thought he hadn't understood him well. “Pardon Don, _me?_”

“But why, yes! Everyone wanting to attend my party could come, and I believe the measurements that I- I mean, my cousin, gave for the costume should fit you close to perfectly. Then why not use it yourself!”

“_Me?_” Chenle repeated, very eloquently.

Don Jackson continued with a twinkle in his eyes: “Carnival is a magical time of the year, you see? For a week, a day, even just a night, everyone is free to be whoever they want, to live the life they dream of, without anyone knowing! Anyone could become a king, or a god, or a mythical being..." he casually walked closer "Anyone could finally... get the _ prince_, or princess, of their dreams. Everything is possible!”

Chenle felt that if he had been near a client with a sewing pin, he would’ve poked them by accident at those words. Painfully. It was all starting to make sense together, if he had understood what Don Jackson was hinting at.

Maybe he was out of his mind, or maybe the fact that Don Jackson didn’t seem angry about what he supposedly had noticed is what prompted Chenle to actually consider the idea instead of running away like he probably should have. Don Jackson was also a very persuasive person, on top of everything. 

Chenle's throat felt dry when he spoke. “But… many of the guests at your party are our clients, Don. They might... recognise me.”

With a smirk, Don Jackson walked to behind the screen again and came back with something in his hands. It was a white mask that covered the whole face and protruded over the mouth, of the kind which slightly changed the voice of whoever wore it thanks to its particular shape. Masks like that made the wearer a notch more difficult to recognise, especially in a room full of sounds or in the dark of the night, and that characteristic made them widely appealing to a variety of people.

Chenle hated that his brain was actually thinking about it. That… could actually work.

“I’m not forcing you of course, it is your choice,” Don Jackson told him, resting a hand on Chenle’s shoulder and offering the mask to him with his other. “I simply think you should at least... consider it.”

Chenle looked at him and then at the the object in his hands again, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. Moments passed.

Chenle took the mask.

* * *

The party was in full swing when he arrived. Muffled music could be heard even from the dock in front of the the villa, where few couples in shimmering costumes were laughing and flirting outside of the open doors. Chenle was sweating behind his mask, hoping that nobody would pay much attention to him. Probably the complete opposite of what everyone else attending the party would wish for themselves.

Thankfully, the valet at the main entrance only bowed before Chenle as a greeting when he entered, not questioning him in any way. What Don Jackson had said was true, everyone was welcome at his parties. That in the end usually translated to 'everyone who could get themselves a costume', but it was mainly because not-as-rich people probably didn’t even think of asking themselves if they would’ve been welcome. Other nobles or wealthy merchants might have turned up their noses in their own villas, but knowing Don Jackson, he would have smiled just as warmly in front of a young son of a peasant walking in with no shoes and wearing only rags.

Speaking of the devil, Don Jackson was beside him moments after he had walked in. Chenle had heard that he liked to not stray too far away from the door to personally welcome his guests, at least during the first half of the night, and the rumor seemed to be true.

“It’s a pleasure seeing you here, welcome!” Don Jackson enounced, left arm open at his side and right one stretched towards Chenle. “A star costume, is it? Very original, compliments to whoever had the idea.”

Chenle was trying to come up with what to say to answer when Don Jackson leaned closer to him, lowering his voice. “He should be near the banquet table, go look for him. I’m happy to see that you came.”

He straightened up again, pushing Chenle towards the rest of the party with a cheerful: “Enjoy the night! And remember that during Carnival, everything is possible.” in his trained and charismatic host voice before turning towards the next couple of guests. 

Chenle was then left to wander the ballroom on his own in search for the food table Don Jackson had mentioned, all while he tried not to think about the fact that he was probably going to only look at Don Jeno from afar, too scared to do anything and be recognised. One problem at a time. 

Despite having a goal to get to, and even more because he wanted to delay for even just a bit the moment in which he would have to face it, Chenle stalled to observe his surroundings. A beautiful Murano glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. The light of its candles washed over the cheerful cacophony of precious fabrics, embellished masks and gemstone jewellery that twirled around the room, accompanied by the sound of the quartet of musicians playing in a corner. The coquettish laughter of wealthy ladies hiding their mouths behind their fans completed the harmony of that party. Donna Giovanna walked beside him wearing the dress he had sewn for her and, although her too-white makeup slightly clashed with the atmosphere of the costume, he was proud of how she looked in it.

He walked through the door to the next room. In the centre there was a circular sofa of a deep red velvet with golden profiles, where a man in orange brocade was sat, seemingly in the process of sweet-talking a courtesan. Judging from her pleased smirk as she looked away and avoided the gaze of the man staring at her, however, it was clear that she was the one to have him wrapped around her finger. 

In the back of the room-

“If you will allow me to compliment you, your costume is splendid.”

Chenle froze in his tracks as soon as he heard the voice behind him, feeling blood pump in his ears.

He turned around slowly and, sure enough, Don Jeno was there, looking directly at him and dissipating any doubt that he hadn't been talking to Chenle. 

After he was met with only silence, the noble bowed slightly before talking again. "Is it from the Acquavita atelier?"

Chenle suddenly realised how rude he was being, so he scrambled to bow as well, considerably deeper than Don Jeno had done. He then nodded to answer the question, not trusting to speak yet in fear of getting recognised. Don Jeno didn't appear phased by it, however, and instead just continued with the conversation.

"Ah, I thought I recognised the manufacture. Mine is from there too! As is my uncle's, and probably the ones of most people in here as well. Some of the tailors from that shop undoubtedly have… _something_ to them, that makes them stand out in a crowd."

Chenle only stared at him, nodding slowly once more. Don Jeno's eyes fixated in his' made it difficult for him to think. 

If he were Don Jeno, Chenle would have already given up and moved to someone more interesting by now. But the noble was still there, looking at Chenle with a small smile leaning towards a smirk and an interested gaze, as if the silence he was receiving didn't bother him in the slightest.

Don Jeno looked like a real prince, just as he had done during the last fitting and every other time Chenle had seen him before. Some could argue that it was his noble blood, but really, none of the other people of prestigious lineage in the whole of Venice looked nearly as similar to a greek sculpture as Don Jeno did. 

The quartet from next room started playing a different song, even more cheerful and enthusiastic than the previous one, and the atmosphere in the air shifted slightly. Chenle thought back to all the words of encouragement Don Jackson had told him during the previous days, and decided that he was right. During Carnival, everything was possible: artesans could become kings, humans could become fairies, everyone could forget every rule under the sun in the name of the celebrations. Which meant, a tailor could enjoy a night in the company of a young noble dressed up as a foreign prince as well. 

So Chenle tugged the mask further down over his mouth, cleared his throat and tried to deepen his voice as best as he could. It was his chance.

"Would you like to dance?"

Don Jeno smiled blindingly bright. He then agreed with a nod and moved to take Chenle's hand, starting to lead him towards the ball room he had walked through right after entering the party.

The moment Chenle saw that smile and then felt the warmth around his fingers, he knew without any doubt that he was so, _ so _gone.

Despite Chenle's fears, from then on it was easy. 

Dancing was easy, for one. The two of them slid across the ballroom among the wealthy of the Serenissima and held hands as they twirled, sometimes letting go before finding each other right after. The people around them either observed their costumes to declare if they matched the expectations the nephew of the host was expected to meet, or didn't spare them more than a glance, too focused on themselves. 

Don Jeno and Chenle hadn't exchanged names, despite being aware that both of them knew who Don Jeno was, and only addressed each other with 'Don' if they needed to. They had silently agreed to keeping up the atmosphere of mystery of Carnival, and Chenle was grateful. The anonymity was easy, easier for him than inventing a brand new identity. He was good at creating always new lives for his customers to immerse themselves into as they wore his costumes, but not so much at making up a believable one for himself.

At some point among all that easy, Don Jeno leaned closer to speak softly in Chenle's ear.

"I'm tired, let's go outside," he told him, and then proceeded to tug Chenle out of the room and away from the party, the chatter trailing behind them like a distant echo.

They stopped under the portico overlooking the gardens of the villa and stalled as they filled their lungs slowly with the fresh night air to try to calm their breaths, slightly heavy from the upbeat dancing. The dark figures of the plants and trees of the gardens were barely sketched against the deep blackish-blue sky and recognisable only because they were not scattered with stars like the rest of the night was.

His own and Don Jeno's panting felt too loud to Chenle's ears, like it was breaking a sacred silence that in the end really wasn't one, garnished by the sound of cicadas coming from the vegetation and the shadow of music and chatter escaping from inside the villa. Somehow, however, those additions did not seem out of place, unlike their heavy breaths felt.

"I really- love your costume. I told you, didn't I?" Don Jeno said between their still slightly present panting, although much calmer than before. 

He took Chenle's hand in his', intertwining their fingers. "It's a star, right? I love stars."

Don Jeno began to draw circles on the back of Chenle's hand with his thumb, then flipped it over and started lightly tracing the outline of his fingers, one by one. He seemed to be paying the upmost attention to them, for some reason that Chenle couldn't imagine. 

Chenle's heart was pumping so loudly in his ears that he almost didn't hear when the other spoke again.

"Pa- pardon, what did you say?"

"I said," Don Jeno started, still looking down at their hands and continuing his feather-light touches, "that I like the decorations on the mask too. White and simple would not have worked as well with the costume, but you've always had an exceptional eye for detail." 

Don Jeno looked up, meeting Chenle's eyes with a much more determinated gaze than his confused one. "I really like that about you, Chenle."

The tailor felt his blood run cold and his stomach turn upside down. He retreated his hand abruptly, like he had just stung himself with a needle. _Chenle._

He didn't manage to run away like he wanted to, however, because Don Jeno grabbed his hand again and started stroking the back of it, as if to calm down a scared animal. Fitting, since Chenle imagined his inner panic was similar to how one would feel like.

He tried to blurt out an excuse, or at least to bow repeatedly, but Don Jeno stopped him after the first time with a hand on his shoulder. All that Chenle could say coherently at that moment was: "How?" 

Don Jeno smiled calmly. "I saw a sketch of that costume in my uncle's apartments, near the white mask. At first I didn't understand, since he already had a costume and he doesn't cover his face fully during his parties, but after some time of wondering I thought that maybe he had commissioned it for someone else. When I recognised the costume and saw the back of your head tonight I thought I might have had a hunch on who you were, and your hands..." He raised their joined hands in front of Chenle's eyes. "...got rid of any doubts in the end. You have calluses on the finger you wear the thimble on when you sew."

Chenle was speechless. "Don Jeno, you-"

"Jeno. Call me just Jeno." 

"... Jeno, you- you knew? Then why, all of… this. Why spending time with me tonight?"

Don Jeno shrugged and took a step closer.

"Because Carnival reserves opportunities and chances for everyone, and I didn't want to waste mine." He took the bottom of Chenle's mask between two fingers, tilting it up slightly. "May I?"

Chenle whispered a positive response, not trusting his voice to speak louder. His throat felt dry and he feared everything could break the moment.

Don Jeno then lifted the mask off of Chenle's face delicately, and stopped to study his every feature in the penumbra. It seemed he was getting imperceptibly closer with every passing second. Don Jeno's eyes were captivating, reflecting the little light through the darkness. They kept getting bigger and bigger the more he moved forward, until they fluttered closed in a heartbeat like his eyelids were the wings of a butterfly.

Before Chenle could bring his brain to decipher what he saw and realise what was happening, Jeno's lips were on his'.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaaahhh my first jenle fic!!!!! I can't believe it took me so long to write one, it's ME and JENLE. smh. 
> 
> lately I seem unable to finish fics when there isn't a fest deadline making me sweat in fear until my brain is forced to come up with something and I write everything without pause for the last days and that's uh. totally not how it went here too lmao. Luckily I at least had a bit of time to review it before it was revealed!  
I originally did research on nobles' clothes in the Venice of the 1600's and wanted to add detailed descriptions and proper language but as I said, time + I couldn't really make it work well, so I apologise
> 
> It's almost 4.5k of jenle though so I feel like I did my part for the nation at least a bit today, hope I'll keep it up in the future! Tell me what you thought, and come meet me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/stardustchenle) ♡ And don't sleep on jenle people


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